


The Charmed One

by WitchChris



Category: Charmed (TV 1998), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Charmed (TV) Fusion, Charmed References, Complicated Relationships, Demons, Evil, Evil beings, F/M, Fights, Ghosts, Heavy influences though, Hiding, Lies, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Monsters, Murder, Powerful Stiles Stilinski, Rituals, Slow Burn, Spells & Enchantments, Supernatural Elements, Truth, Vanquishing, Warlocks, Werewolves, Witch Stiles Stilinski, but not really, complicated situations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchChris/pseuds/WitchChris
Summary: "Hear now the word of the witch, the secrets I hid in the night. The oldest of gods are invoked here; the great work of magic is sought. In this night and in this hour, I call upon the ancient power. Bring the power to me, a witch charmed by destiny. Give me the power, I want the power, I claim the power".A spell that unlocked his destiny. A spell that made him the protector of the innocent. A spell that unlocked the door to many secrets. His name is Stiles and he is the Charmed One.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	1. Something wicca this way comes

Stiles was regretting every choice he had made as he ascended the stairs of his family home phone lighting his way. The door to the attic looked menacing in the almost complete darkness. He should have grabbed the flashlight he remembered tossing in the back of his jeep. What was he even doing? A storm was raging outside, the lights had gone out and he was heading to the attic because he heard some noise. Who in the right frame of mind would go to an attic in the middle of a storm especially if he heard something crashing? Stiles that’s who.  
Stiles shook his head halting just outside the door. Mrs. Bright, the cleaning lady he had hired a week before he returned home, had said that no matter what she did the door wouldn’t open. She had even called a locksmith and even he had left frustrated by the clear refusal of the door opening the secrets of the room behind it. Stiles pocketed his phone for a moment plunging himself in the darkness. He took a long breath. “Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared”, he kept chanting to himself. He was twenty-five damn it. He wasn’t going to be afraid of an attic. He grabbed the handle with a trembling hand and twisted. The door opened with a squeak.  
Stiles stared at the door. He blinked. Hard. Weird. He shook his head taking his phone back out and lighting the way. The attic was somewhat large, almost as large as the living room. There were boxes pushed against the walls with other boxes haphazardly placed open them almost reaching the triangular ceiling. He sighed. He would have to look through all of them at some point. He had heard that a fundraiser was planned in two weeks by the police station. He probably could have sorted through most boxes by then.  
He looked around for a bit before finding the cause of the crashing sound. A small box had fallen and spilled its contents on the ground. He stared at it for a moment before deciding that he would deal with cleaning it up in the morning.  
Stiles jumped a moment later, a very manly squeal escaping his lips as thunder roared loudly from outside. The walls shook softly and light filled the room. Stiles cocked his head. There was a trunk placed in the further corner of the attic no other items were placed there. Stiles bit his lips. Maybe he should leave the exploring when the sun was shining. Stiles took a step towards the door before turning around and marching to the trunk.  
It wasn’t very large. Made of thick wood and embroidered with intricate depictions of flowers and birds. Stiles shone his phone on the clasp. His brows met in the middle of his forehead. The clasp was a symbol he knew well. It had come up many times during his MBA research about the witch trials in Salem in 1692 and the subsequent use of the event in literature. “A triquetra”, he whispered ghosting his fingers over the symbol. A triquetra, a symbol of the unity of the mind, body, and soul or the land, sea, and sky or perhaps the most popular of associations a symbol of witchcraft.  
Stiles opened the trunk. A cloud of dust assaulted his face. He coughed and gagged for a couple of moments before managing to overcome it. He wiped away a tear and flashed the inside of the trunk. There was a sole item in it; a leather-bound book. But that wasn’t what caught Stiles's attention. It was the triquetra branded on the cover. Stiles grabbed the book. Thunder roared again. This time Stiles run out of the attic.  
Stiles rushed down the stairs not looking back towards the attic. Only when he was safely in the living room did he allow himself to breathe. Stiles placed the book on the coffee table and walked to the kitchen. He had seen candles stacked on one of the bottom cupboards when he explored in the afternoon. With a triumphant cry, Stiles took three large candles and moved them to the living room. Thankfully the light of the constant lightning bolts was enough to prevent him from falling over.  
Stiles placed the candles on the table and grabbed his work bag that he had thankfully tossed on the sofa. He rummaged for a bit and yelled happily when he found a lighter. He always carried one. You never knew when you would need one. He lit the candles.  
The book was large, the leather black and thick. It looked old and if Stiles had to guess by the craftsmanship it was at least three hundred years old. He gently pried it open. “Book of Shadows”, he read. Another thunder. Underneath the title was another triquetra. Stiles frowned. Book of Shadows? That was the name most witches gave their grimoires, a play on the fact that witchcraft was something that was done in the shadows unless you wanted to be burned at the stake. Stiles caressed the yellow, thick page. It was truly old. He turned the next page.  
“To Summon Your True Self”, Stiles read. He skimmed the page. His eyebrows rose to his hairline. This was a book of witchcraft. What was it doing at his house? Stiles read. “Hear now the word of the witch, the secrets I hid in the night. The oldest of gods are invoked here; the great work of magic is sought. In this night and in this hour, I call upon the ancient power. Bring the power to me, a witch charmed by destiny. Give me the power, I want the power, I claim the power”. A thunder louder than all the previous ones made Stiles jump closing the book in the process.  
“This is too weird”, he said. He blew out the candles grabbed his phone and made his way up the stairs and to his bedroom. He would deal with the book in the morning.  
As he closed his eyes and unbeknownst to him, the sky above his house cleared for a moment the moon casting its light brilliantly above it, and at that moment as the light of the moon shone through the window and onto his sleeping frame, Stiles was Charmed. 


	2. How to vanquish a warlock

Stiles’s job as an assistant professor at Beacon Hills County University or BHCU for short would start the upcoming fall. He would teach Entry to Medieval Literature. He was beyond excited to begin teaching in a more formal capacity. During his Ph.D. studies, he had the privilege to teach some classes at Columbia University under the watchful eyes of his favorite professor Dr. Manuel Ferreira. Dr. Ferreira had been so impressed by his teaching skills that he had written a glowing recommendation and had sent it himself to the dean of BHCU. He was hired immediately. Stiles would send a basket full of goodies twice a year for the rest of Dr. Ferreira’s life as a thank you.  
But because Stiles was Stiles he wouldn’t be able to remain unemployed until then. It was just the start of summer and he had three months. Besides, it wasn’t like he was loaded and he could afford to remain unemployed. So the morning after the storm he had woken up early, had dressed and he was out of the door by eight. He had momentarily paused to stare at the large leather-bound book on his coffee table. He hoped he had dreamed about it. “Later. I will deal with you later”, he promised and slammed the door behind him.  
Barely after ten, he had managed to secure himself a job at a small coffee shop near the police station. The senior barista spent almost an hour showing him how all the machines worked before allowing his to tentatively make his first coffee. When he was in college he worked in a bookstore until he started working for a literary firm, so coffee machines weren’t something he intimately knew. Even the high-tech one Dr. Ferreira had gifted him as a congratulatory gift for securing the BHCU job was still mostly a mystery to him. Most of the time the coffee didn’t even taste like coffee. He digressed.  
“Good morning, what can I get you?” he said with a smile looking up. He almost choked. A very tall bearded hunk wrapped in a tight deputy uniform was currently glaring at him.  
“Who are you?”  
“Hello to you too, officer”, Stiles replied. The officer’s left eyebrow skyrocketed to the edge of his forehead. Stiles shook his head. “I am Stiles. I am new. Well, not really. I mean I am new at the job but not new in town. I am from here I just got back. And I am rumbling. Sorry. What can I get you?” Stiles looked down in embarrassment missing the look of recognition the officer shot him.  
“Stiles as in Mrs. Penelope’s grandson?” he asked.  
Stiles looked up in surprise. “You knew Grams?” Grams had died seven years ago, a month after Stiles had left for college. Stiles felt responsible for her death. If he had gone to college at BHCU he would still have lived at home and he could have protected her from those burglars.  
“She used to bring chocolate chipped and mint cookies every Friday at school. She had been my favorite teacher”, he said.   
“She was truly amazing”, Stiles said looking away for a moment reining his emotions in. “Sorry”, he whispered. The officer pointedly looked at the coffee selection board.   
“I will get a large cup of coffee. Black”, he said after Stiles turned his eyes back to him. Stiles smiled and got to work.  
Stiles was getting the hang of making coffee almost enjoying the push and pull of the buttons, the sound the machine-made as it turned milk into cream.   
Everything was going fine and he was proud of himself for not causing any major accidents. He had prayed long and hard to the universe to allow him a day when his clumsiness wasn’t present. And then the universe spat in his face.   
He was cleaning a table when one of the customers tripped on the leg of a chair and sent his coffee cup flying towards a young student. Stiles yelled and raised his hands. He closed his eyes waiting for the scream of the girl. He had made that coffee. The customer had asked for double heating. When a couple of seconds passed and Stiles heard nobody screaming, he cracked one eye open. And then he cracked the other one because the room… the room had frozen. He looked left and right. Everyone was motionless as if they had frozen in time. Stiles blinked a couple of times. This wasn’t possible. He must have drunk too much coffee. The room and its occupants remained frozen.  
Stiles stared at the coffee cup that was inches away from the girl's face. The liquid had barely escaped the edge of the cup. Stiles jumped and grabbed the coffee before whatever was happening stopped. A second later he was glad he did because the room unfroze. Half the room rose with a yell almost out of their lips but halted. The cup was safely in Stiles's hand. “Please be careful”, he said and handed the cup back to the man.   
“Nice reflexes”, was the reply he got. The man stared at him for a long second before he left with a smile on his face. Stiles stared at the clock mounted on the wall next to the coffee selection board.  
When Stiles returned home he locked the door and rushed to the book. With shaking hands he opened it to the page he was on last night. He read the spell again and again until his ears started ringing and then he turned the page and looked at the back. Stiles felt his jaw drop.   
“Prophecy of the Charmed One”, he read out loud. “The Warren Bloodline will grow stronger and stronger and even stronger until the arrival of one witch that will possess all three supreme powers. The power to move objects with a single thought, the power to freeze time, and the power to see into the future. That witch will be the most powerful witch the world has ever known and will defeat all kinds of evil. The witch will be known as the Charmed One”.   
Stiles felt his head spinning, the world growing dark. He shook his head blinking as hard as he could. He closed the book and let himself fall back on the couch. “No”, he said after a long moment of staring at the ceiling. “I am not a witch”. He jumped off the sofa and sped up the stairs. He needed to search the attic.  
An hour later and after having searched through many boxes Stiles found himself blinking at the ceiling of the living room. “I am a witch”. There was no denying that. Even if he wanted to deny it the fact was that he had found all sorts of candles, tools, jars with roots and crystals, and even small velvet pouches with tags on them with ready-to-use spells. And if he could somehow still be irrational and deny everything he found there was still the fact that he had made an entire room freeze. Stiles covered his face with his hands.   
“Fuck”, he screamed angrily and glared at the table squinting his eyes. The table with all its contents flew to the opposite wall and shattered. Stiles looked at the broken glass and then at his palms. He shook his head, stood, grabbed his coat, and walked out of the house. He wasn’t dealing with it.  
Stiles took his jeep and drove downtown. He parked in front of the coffee shop and then took to the streets. It was just past ten in the night but almost no one was walking other than him. He stuck his hands in his pockets. Let’s not take chances, he thought. He didn’t want to make anyone take flight or freeze someone while they were walking across the street. Maybe he shouldn’t have come.   
Stiles kept walking until he found himself at an unknown part of Beacon Hills which was odd since he would have sworn he knew every corner this town had to offer. Stiles decided to walk back from where he came but destiny had a different plan. “Hello again”. Stiles found himself staring at the man that had almost spilled his coffee on that girl earlier today.  
“Hello”, Stiles said and walked to bypass him. The man blocked him. Stiles released his hands from his pockets.   
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” the man said. His teeth glinted in the moonlight. Stiles gulped his heart speeding up.   
“Home. You should go to”, he said and took a step towards the right. The man did too.  
“I can’t let you go home”. Stiles's heartbeat skyrocketed.  
“Look man, I don’t know what your deal is but get out of my face”, Stiles said trying to sound brave. The man’s smile turned sharper.  
“I am afraid I can’t do that, witch”, he said. Stiles's eyes grew wide. His hand trembled.  
“What?” The man cocked his head to the side. He then raised his right arm and Stiles watched as a knife appeared in his grasp out of thin air. “Who are you?”  
“I am Jeremy and you have something I want”, he said before he jumped at him. Stiles raised his hand to protect his face. The man froze. Stiles stared at him for a second before he sprinted out of there.  
He burst through his front door and flew straight to the living room. He grabbed the book and rushed to the attic where all the witch stuff was placed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck”, he said as he searched in the book. “Man that makes knife appear, man that makes knife appear”. After a few minutes of not finding anything, he pushed the book away. “What am I doing? I don’t even know what I am looking for!” he yelled.   
And then the pagers started flipping on their own. Stiles stared wide-eyed at the book as the pages danced rapidly and then they abruptly stopped. Stiles drew the book in. “Warlocks?” he read the title. An image of a man dressed in black and holding a knife took half the page. “Warlocks have one goal: To kill good witches and obtain the witches' powers. They are witches that have chosen to follow the dark path by performing an irrevocable act of evil in killing another witch or by marrying a warlock in a Dark Binding”, Stiles read his eyebrows rising higher and higher. “Dark Binding?” Stiles shook his head. He would research the hell out of this later but for now. He read and flipped the page. He let a cry of triumph at what he found next. “How to vanquish a warlock”. There was a sentence repeated thrice. “The power of one will set me free?” he read out loud. “Is that it?”   
A loud crash brought Stiles out of his thoughts. He looked up as the warlock came into the attic athame in hand. “I hope you are ready to die little witch!”   
“In your dreams!” Stiles yelled and stood. I hope this works, he thought. He took a deep breath. “The power of one will set me free, the power of one will set me free, the power of one will set me free”.  
The warlock laughed. He pointed with his athame to the ground and fire circled Stiles. Stiles felt his heart beating faster. He kept chanting. The fire turned into a whirlwind. The warlock looked manic. Stiles chanted louder the air whipping his face.  
“I am not the only one! I am one of millions! In places, you can't even imagine! In forms, you would never believe! We are hell on this earth!” he screamed taking a step forward. Stiles chanted one last time before he watched the warlock explode burning light filling the room. The wind disappeared.   
Stiles stared at the spot the world stood a minute ago and then he passed out.


	3. Ghostly encounters

The morning after he had successfully vanquished his very first warlock Stiles found himself staring at the hot officer he had served yesterday. “Good morning, officer. Can I help you with something?”  
“Good morning, Mr. Halliwell. I have a few questions for you”, the officer said. Stiles gulped his mind already racing. Oh fuck. This visit must be about the warlock. Stiles never thought that in the dark alley he found himself the night before cameras could be present. What if his attack by that warlock was caught on camera? And even worse, what if the camera recorded him freezing said warlock? Stiles felt his palms get moist.  
“Ok, officer but please call me Stiles. Mr. Halliwell was my late grandfather”, Stiles smiled as best as he could hoping the officer couldn’t see his growing panic.  
“Very well, Mr. Hal-, I mean Stiles”, he removed a photo from his jacket and flashed it to him. Stiles felt his knees wobble. It was him the warlock. “Do you recognize this man?”  
Stiles took a deep breath to calm his rapidly constricting lungs. “Yes. I served him coffee yesterday”.  
The officer nodded and moved the photo back into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Did you notice anything suspicious? Did you see him act weirdly in any way?”   
“No, I didn’t”, Stiles paused. “Is something wrong, officer?”  
The officer sighed looking away. He waved at the old lady, Mrs. Givens, living next door. “He is a possible person of interest in a series of murders”, he said. Stiles knew what that meant. He had seen many police dramas to recognize the meaning of these words.  
“He is suspected of murder, isn’t he?” Stiles asked. The officer’s kaleidoscopic eyes –what the actual hell was his eye color? - narrowed.   
“I can’t disclose that, Stiles”, he said. Stiles smiled.  
“Don’t worry, Officer Hale. I understand”, he replied. The officer’s brows met.  
“How do you know my name?”   
Stiles pointed at the small silver tab below his left clavicle. “I can read you know”, he teased. The officer chuckled.   
“Of course. Have a good day, Stiles. Thank you for your help”, he said before running down the stairs that led to the front door. He paused before he entered his cruiser. “It’s Derek, by the way”, he yelled. Stiles smiled and waved him off.   
“Hot damn”, he murmured to himself.  
Stiles spend the rest of his morning cleaning the remains of his coffee table, cleaning the kitchen, and his room. He was avoiding going back into the attic where the book was still lying on the floor. I have to deal with this, he thought to himself and with a long breath climbed up the stairs. He sat cross-legged and dragged the book on him. It was still open to the page of the spell he used last night. “The power of one will set you free”, he read softly.  
Stiles looked up towards the ceiling. “I need help”, he said. He didn’t know who or what he was actually asking for. Help with what exactly? Help with being a witch? Help with understanding why he was a witch? Help with getting his life to where it was a few days ago when his largest worry was what he would wear his first day as an associate professor? He needed a lot of help.   
As he thought these things the book pages started turning on their own again. Stiles felt proud at that moment because he neither screamed nor tossed the book away. The book stopped on a page that showed a family tree. Stiles read curiously until he reached almost to the bottom of the tree. His grandmother’s and his mother’s name were there and next to them were a word. Next to his grandmother was the word telekinesis and next to his mother the word illusions. Still read those words a couple of times before he closed the book. Mom and grandma were witches, he thought.  
Stiles took a deep breath before he laid down the book still on his lap. “I have so many questions”, he told the ceiling.   
Stiles spend the rest of his time until it was time to go to work flipping lazily the pages of the book reading here and there about demons and spirits and warlocks and everything in between. He took the book to his room and hid it secret compartment in the closet.   
His day was going fine. Nothing crazy had happened. He had managed to freeze the coffee shop customers only twice and break only three glasses when he squinted at them in an effort to move them to his hand. He was a disaster. He was at least thankful to realize that the coffee shop had no security cameras monitoring the interior. There was only one camera pointing at the door from the outside. At least he didn’t have to worry about sneaking in his boss’s office and deleting footage.   
Stiles was the last person to leave the coffee shop. He was on his way to the car when a rushing man bumped his shoulder. Before Stiles could react he found himself floating staring at a black and white version of the world where a horseman with a long spear was driving his weapon through the man’s that had just bumped his shoulder heart. Stiles blinked a couple of times. “What in the hell?” he turned to yell at the man to stop when his brain screamed at him premonition. The man was no longer there. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Stiles run towards where the man had headed. He looked left and right but he was the only one in the streets.   
Stiles rushed to the book the moment he entered his home. He searched frantically until his eyes caught a page where a horseman dressed in black and wielding a long spear was drawn. “Yama is the Gatekeeper of Del Huoy, the opening to the gates of Chinese Hell. He seeks to capture souls, absorbing them by impaling them on his lance, and does not care whether the souls are good or evil”, he read. Fucking great! The Gatekeeper of the Chinese Hell. Just my fucking luck! Stiles thought. He searched for a way to vanquish him like he did the warlock but came empty-handed. “Maybe he can’t be vanquished”, he whispered.   
Stiles slammed the book shut and took out his phone dialing 9-1-1. Before he could press the call button, he paused. What even am I going to say? He thought. Hey, I just had a vision of a guy being impaled by the Gatekeeper of the Chinese Hell? Stiles shook his head. Fuck.  
He grabbed his hair and twisted it in his hand. A moment later he was running down the stairs, out the door, and into his car. Twenty minutes later he was parking a street after the coffee shop. He locked his car and started running around. Maybe the man lived nearby. Stiles paused. And how the hell will I find him? He shook his head and kept searching. In his vision, he remembered being in a long alley with boxes haphazardly tossed here and there. The back of a shop maybe? He thought. He run four streets down the road. There were restaurants there.  
He was ready to give up his mission hopeless when he finally spotted something at the end of a long alley. “Hey!” he yelled. The man didn’t turn around. “Hey!” Stiles yelled louder this time.   
He run towards the man. A few meters before he reached him light filled the alley and the horseman with the spear appeared. Stiles screamed throwing his hands up and hoping for the best. The horseman froze mid-gallop. The man in front of him turned slowly towards him. “What?” he whispered.   
“Are you insane? What are you doing? Let’s go!” Stiles yelled and tried to grab the man’s hand. And then his hand went through him. Stiles blinked and slowly did it again. “Ok”.  
“You can see me”, the man whispered. “You can see me!”  
“And you are a ghost”, Stiles deadpanned. “This has gotten officially too weird”.  
“How long does it last?” the man said pointing towards the frozen horseman.  
“Not long”, Stiles said coming back to himself. “We have to go! Run!” he yelled and took off towards the entrance of the alleyway. The man was a step behind him.   
Stiles's life was officially screwed.  
“So let me get this straight”, Stiles said as he sipped from his beer. “You are a student at the BHCU and you died two days ago. A criminal by the name of Tony Wong shot you and then burned your body so he could still your death and be freed from the police. And now you are being hunted by Yama so he can take you to Hell”, Stiles finished.  
“Yes”, Mark Chao replied.   
“And in order for you not to go to Hell, your body must be found and a ceremonial burial must be done so you could go to paradise?”  
“Yes but the police think that my body is Tony. He left his ring on my finger so they could recognize him”, Mark said.  
“And you want me to go to the police and convince them that the body is you and not him?” Stiles asked.  
“Yes!” Mark said with a smile. Stiles stared at him for a moment.  
“Are you insane? How in the hell will I do that? The police will think I am a psycho and probably lock me up!” he yelled. Mark winced.  
Mark run his hand through his hair. Stiles watched as the strands actually moved. This was way too weird. “We can go to my mother! We can convince her that the body is me! She is already looking!”  
Stiles fell on the love chair behind him. “Yeah, great idea. I will go and tell a worried mother that I can see her dead son and that he is in danger by a spirit that wants to send him to hell! Really?” Mark frowned.  
“We have to do something! I can’t go in hell!” he yelled. Stiles looked at the ceiling. Mark was right. Stiles couldn’t allow him to go to hell. A light bulb flashed above his head.  
“Mark”, he began a plan already forming in his head, “do you know where Tony is hiding?”  
“Why?”  
“I think I have an idea”.  
Stiles and Mark found themselves the very next morning to an area of Beacon Hills that wasn’t inhabited by many. There were mostly warehouses and unfinished homes here. One of those warehouses was used as a hideout. Mark had told Stiles that Tony was planning to escape to Japan, his homeland. “Ok. How many guards are there?” Stiles asked the moment Mark had jogged back to his hiding place, an unfinished two-story house next to the warehouse.  
“Five. Three with him in a room on the second floor of the warehouse and two more roaming the bottom floor”, he said. Stiles took a deep breath.   
“Ok. Let’s do this”. Stiles walked swiftly to the warehouse. He stopped for a second with his hand on the handle of the door that could probably lead him to his death if his powers failed him. He looked at Mark. He couldn’t fail him.   
Stiles pushed the door open and immediately raised his hands like all the times he froze things before. He found himself staring at the frozen surprised faces of the two guards. “Fuck. It worked”, he said. He took a deep breath and squinted his eyes at them. The guards flew backward and landed on the walls behind them. “Mark”, he whispered. Mark rushed to their side.  
“Breathing but unconscious”, he said. Stiles nodded and as delicately as possible climbed the iron stairwell to the second floor. At the end of a small hallway was a door. Stiles took a deep breath and pushed inside.   
“Surprise!” he said and threw his hands up once more. The four criminals froze. Stiles grabbed the newspaper he had stuffed in his back pocket. He placed it on the hands of Tony with the title of the main article visible. “Criminal Found Burned”, it read. Stiles snapped a few pictures. “Ok, let’s run before they unfreeze!” Stiles yelled and run. Mark closely behind him.   
The very next day Stiles had weaseled his way into the police station and dropped a printed photo of Tony holding the newspaper and an address.   
“Ok. Now we wait”, Stiles said the moment he got back to his jeep. He had noticed though that he was being watched and then followed.   
Stiles was tired as he walked up the stairs to his door. Mark was talking about his childhood to him so none paid attention to the men sneaking behind them until it was too late. “Stiles!” Mark screamed as Stiles was hit in the back of the head and carried away.  
Stiles had woken up in pain. His head throbbed and his hands ached. He tried to move his hand to rub at his eyes but he found he couldn’t. Stiles's eyes snapped open and he looked around in alarm. “Finally! You are awake!” Stiles found himself staring at an angry Tony. Mark was behind him looking terrified. Stiles was terrified as well. With his hands tied he could freeze Tony and he wasn’t sure with the pain afflicting his head he could focus enough to use his telekinesis. “What have you told the police?” he asked taking a gun out of the back of his pants and pointing to his head.  
“Well, I dropped a lovely photo of you holding the newspaper that announced your death”, Stiles said with a smile. He needed to stall. He rubbed his hand together. If he could loosen the rope enough to release one hand. “Oh and wrote this address on it!”  
One hand was almost free. Just a little more, Stiles thought. “Bad choice since I will be long gone until they arrive and you will be long dead!” he yelled and cocked the safety of the gun back. Stiles rubbed faster. He threw one hand in the air as Tony pulled a trigger. Stiles found himself staring at a bullet an inch away from his left eye.  
“Fuck me”, he whispered.   
Sirens were heard in the distance. “Let’s go!” Mark yelled. Stiles nodded and moved out of the chair. At that moment Tony unfroze and so did the bullet. The bullet flew to the wall. The loud bang resonated throughout the warehouse.  
“What?” Tony said and turned towards them. Stiles smiled and squinted. Tony flew to the wall.   
Stiles and Mark run. They hid behind some boxes on the bottom floor as the police burst through the warehouse door.  
Tony run down the stairs looking wildly around. Stiles watched as Officer Hale yelled for him to lower his gun. Tony sneered and fired a shot. Stiles held his breath as the bullet flew right past Officer Hale’s head. Shots were fired by the police. Tony tumbled down the stairs. He was dead. Mark closed his eyes next to him. Stiles looked away.  
A bright flash made Stiles snap his head back. Yama was standing there looking at Tony’s body. A moment later, Tony’s ghost rose from his body and was immediately speared down by the Gatekeeper. Stiles held his breath as the gatekeeper turn his attention to them. Stiles placed himself in front of Mark. The Gatekeeper stared at him for a moment before disappearing in another flash. Stiles breathed in relief looking back at Mark.   
Stiles managed to freeze the room full of police officers a few minutes later and weaseled his way out of the warehouse by the back door using the boxes to hide himself because he knew very well that officers wore cameras nowadays.   
Two days later Stiles found himself in a funeral. He stared as a casket was lowered to the ground and a crying mother said her last goodbyes to her only son. “Thank you”, Mark said from next to him. Stiles nodded wiping away his tear with the back of his black jacket sleeve.   
“No problem”, he said. Mark smiled before he looked back. Stiles followed his stare. A man was waiting a few meters away. Stiles knew that this was Mark’s deceased father. The man smiled warmly and opened his arms. Stiles watched as Mark run to him and together they disappeared in the blink of an eye.  
Stiles looked at the sky. 


	4. Stolen youth

Stiles decided that if he was to do this, fight demons and warlocks and spirits, he had to start training. So the very next day after Mark’s funeral, Stiles found himself in the kitchen. He still felt like shit about Mark’s passing but in the end, he was already dead when Stiles found him.  
Stiles had been throwing plates in the air for the past two hours before freezing them. Catching them when they unfroze was another thing. Stiles got so excited every time he froze them that he kept jumping around forgetting the item in the air. Currently, he was ten plates short. He would have to buy new ones.   
Stiles was tossing two plates in the air when the doorbell rang. Stiles barely managed to freeze the plates before meeting an untimely death. He grabbed them and placed them on the kitchen counter. Derek was standing at the other side of the door. “Good morning, officer”, Stiles said with a smile.  
“Good morning, Stiles. I told you to call me Derek”, he said and offered Stiles a steaming cup of coffee. A soft blush covered Stiles's cheeks.   
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked leaning on the door. Derek licked his lips. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by Stiles.   
“I came to inform you that the man in the store that I inquired about a couple of days ago has been identified as the killer of several women”, Derek said waiting for his words to sink in. Stiles fake gasped taking a sip of his coffee.  
“That is awful”, a small breath, “were you able to track him?” Stiles waited. His heart was about to explode out of his chest and take a walk around the neighborhood.  
Derek sighed looking away. “No, we haven’t. I just came to tell you to be careful and if you see him anywhere to call me”, Derek said and passed a card to him. Stiles took it gingerly and stared at it. Derek’s personal cell phone number was written on it.   
“I sure will, officer”, Stiles said.  
“Derek”, the officer grumbled.   
“Derek”, Stiles repeated with a smile.  
Apart from spending hours each day honing his newfound powers apart from premonition which he still had trouble understanding how exactly it worked, Stiles decided to start running every morning before work. He needed to be fighting fit. He had a feeling he would have to resort to running many times in the future.  
On one of his runs almost a week later he decided to run through the forest starting in the back of his house instead of the streets surrounding the neighborhood.   
There he bumped into a very sweaty and shirtless Derek. “Stiles!” Derek yelled from afar joking towards Stiles who had gone utterly still mesmerized by the muscles. “Stiles?” Derek asked cocking his head to the side. Stiles blinked.  
“Hey. Sorry I got distracted”, Stiles said looking anywhere but Derek. The officer chuckled.  
“What are you doing in the woods?” he asked a frown appearing on his handsome face.  
“Running”, was Stiles's very intelligent answer.   
Derek hummed trying and managing to catch Stiles’s eyes. “Don’t you know it is dangerous running around in the forest on your own?”   
Stiles bit his bottom lip. Derek was very close. “Right back at you”, he said. He sounded breathless and it had nothing to do with running. Derek smirked.  
“Stiles”, Derek said.  
“Yes, officer?” Derek shook his head his smirk intensifying.  
“Do you have anything planned for tomorrow?”   
Stiles felt his heart start running. It was already a few miles ahead. “No, I don’t have anything on my schedule”.   
“Good”, Derek said. “Dinner with me at “Quake”. Let’s say around 9?”  
“Yes”.  
Stiles was bouncing excitedly later as he made a confused student a caramel frappuccino. “Here you go! Have a nice day!” he said as the student rushed outside.   
Stiles had a freaking date. It had been a long time since he had gone out with someone and it has been even longer since he had sex. At the very thought of sex, Stiles felt his pants tighten just a fraction. He prayed that Derek and he would have lots of mind-blowing sex. He had the feeling that Derek would dominate the fuck out of him. Stiles was so ready.  
“Good morning, what can I get you?” Stiles said to a young pretty blonde woman.  
“A cappuccino, please”, she said. She looked around and waved at a man sitting in the corner of the room. He was a good-looking guy not as much as Derek but he looked nice. Stiles fixed the cappuccino and gave it to her. “Cool tattoo”, he said pointing to a small angel tattoo the girl had on her right hand. The wings were spread and multiple colors danced from their edges.  
“Thank you”, she said with a smile and went to the man.   
Stiles watched them for a moment. The man was leaning towards her a smile on his face. He was looking her up and down with obvious interest. Stiles shook his head and turned around heading for the coffee machine. He had cleaning to do.  
The day passed by in a blur. Stiles woke up the next day feeling full of energy. He went for his morning run and then all but run to his job. He was on the verge of being late. In his haste, he almost run into an elderly woman with very pale almost white-blonde hair. Stiles yelled an apology and rushed away. The woman stared at his retreating back. He turned and moved towards him. Slowly he began following him.  
Stiles’s day flew right past him. He didn’t even release when his shift was over. He had four hours until his date with Derek. Stiles practically run out of the coffee shop and towards where he left his jeep missing the elderly woman trying to catch his attention. The woman cocked her head to the side and began to follow him again. She didn’t manage to reach him before Stiles was flying down the road with his jeep.  
Stiles had showered twice, changed clothes thrice, and had walked around the house five times. He had been fidgeting with his clothes when he decided to pass the time by continually freezing a fly that buzzed around the room. When the doorbell rang Stiles jumped out of his skin and with his the love chair and the coffee table slid with two loud bangs to the walls. Thankfully nothing broke this time. Stiles fixed his hair, took a deep breath, and opened his door. And then he promptly lost his breath. Because Derek… Derek looked exquisite.  
He was in a pair of tight black slacks and an equally tight black dress shirt tucked inside his slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to expose his delicious forearms. “Hey”, Stiles said breathlessly.  
“Hey yourself”, Derek said looking him up and down very slowly. Stiles felt himself flush.   
“Shall we?” he asked. Derek nodded and waited for him to lock his door. Derek placed a hand on his waist. Stiles gulped. Derek led him to a black sleek Camaro parked just a few meters away from his front lawn. “Is this yours?” Stiles said and flashed to the car caressing the strong lines of the hood. Derek chuckled from behind him. Stiles turned around leaning heavily on the car. Derek was there with a perfect smile and kaleidoscopic eyes making Stiles dizzy. Stiles was so getting it tonight.  
The date was going awesomely if Stiles was being honest. Derek was funny, smart, and an all-around great guy. He had helped an elderly lady cross the road before they entered Quake. Stiles was a little bit smitten. “So tell me about your family?” Stiles asked.  
Derek smiled. “I have a rather large family. Most of them still live here. I am actually surprised we never encounter each other before. How long had you lived in Beacon Hills before you left for college?”  
“Only for three years but I visited quite often before I came to stay with Grams”, Stiles replied sticking a curly fry in his mouth.  
“Any other family?” Derek asked. Stiles smiled.  
“No. Just me”, he said. Derek frowned. Stiles took a deep breath. “My dad is still alive or at least he was seven years ago. That was the last time I had seen him anyway”.  
Derek gulped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories”.  
Stiles waved him off. “I have long since got over him”. Derek stared at him for a moment before shifting the subject of the conversation to career matters. Stiles visibly relaxed his smile turning soft again.  
Stiles excused himself an hour and a half later for a much-needed bathroom break. As he walked outside the bathroom he bumped into an elderly lady. “I am so sorry. Did I hit you?”   
Stiles grabbed the lady’s hands. He gasped his eyes flying closed. He was transported into a dark room. The blonde girl with the angel tattoo in her hand he had served yesterday was tied to a table with black candles all around her. “Please don’t hurt me!” the girl screamed. Stiles turned towards where he looked. He took a step back at the thing that came forward from the shadows. A disfigured face with rotten teeth and a sprinkle of hair stared hungrily at the girl. “I am Javna and your youth is mine!” he yelled before red beams erupted from his eyes and connected with the young girls. The girl screamed before she aged rapidly. Stiles watched as the disfigured face turned young and attractive. That was the man from yesterday, Stiles thought as he was brought back to reality.  
Stiles stared wide-eyed at the elderly lady. He grabbed her right hand gently and started at it. Sure enough, there was an angel there with his wings spread. The colors were faded but still present. Stiles covered his gaping mouth. “Do you know me?” the woman asked hopefully.   
Stiles opened his mouth to answer but then Derek appeared. “Stiles? I was wondering what took you so long”, Derek said and came to a stop next to him. He stared at the elderly woman. “Do you know each other?”  
“Yes, yes”, Stiles almost yelled. “She is one of Grams's best-friends from out of town. I forgot she was planning to visit me. I was so sure she would get here tomorrow”. Derek frowned looking at the woman. She smiled at him.  
“How did you know where to find you?” Derek inquired suspicion clouding his face. Stiles gulped but smiled brightly.  
“I told her about our date. She was very excited that I finally decide to agree to go out with someone”, Stiles lied effortlessly. “She wouldn’t have come but I forgot to tell her that I had changed the locks to the house so her keys wouldn’t work. That’s why she is here”.  
Derek nodded the suspicious look evaporating. “Hello, it is so nice to meet you”. The woman nodded and then looked at Stiles.  
“Derek I know this is a bust but can we finish our date some other time? I don’t want her to go back alone. You understand”, Stiles said turning towards him. Derek smiled softly.  
“Of course. We can take a rain check”, he said. Stiles planted a kiss on his stubbly cheek.  
“You are awesome! I will call you! Come, aunty!” Stiles then whisked the woman away. Derek didn’t even pay much attention. His senses had focused sharply at the heat radiating from the spot Stiles had kissed.  
Stiles placed the woman on his sofa. “Do you remember anything?” he asked softly offering her a glass of water.  
“No”, she said with trembling hands.   
“Ok. It is alright. You can rest here whilst I search for a solution”, he said. The woman nodded. Stiles turned on the TV and gave her the remote. He then run upstairs to his bedroom where he had hidden the Book of Shadows.  
It didn’t take long for Stiles to find the entry for Javna. “Javna feeds one week out of every year, stealing the life force from the young by invoking the black magic power of The Evil Eye to gain eternal youth”, Stiles read and then flipped the page. “The Hand of Fatima”, Stiles read. He took a deep breath and read the spell a couple of times until he had memorized it.   
A loud crash was heard downstairs. Stiles rushed to the living room. The woman had stood and was pointing at the TV. “Javna”, she whispered. Stiles observed. It was a gossip local TV show. Stiles took the remote and turned the volume up.   
“Stefan will be in town until the end of the week”, said one host to the other.   
“We are so lucky a photographer that famous has graced our little town”, the other host. Stiles read the undress flashing across the screen and the hosts urged young girls to have a shot at modeling. Stiles scribbled it down. He then closed the TV.   
“Stay here”, he said. “I will be back”. The woman nodded and sat again at the sofa being careful at the broken glass by her feet. Stiles cursed under his breath and run out of the house.  
The address led him to a warehouse in the middle of the city. It was often used for open markets. Stiles grabbed the door handle. Locked. He looked around for anyone and then upwards for any security cameras. When he found none, he squinted at the door handle. The door flew open.  
Stiles gingerly stepped inside. He closed the door softly behind him. He walked around in the dark with the only light coming from his phone for a long time. The space was empty. As he was about to give up this space obviously wasn’t used as his lair and besides it didn’t look like the room in his vision, Stiles heard a scream. He rushed to the back of the warehouse. A door was there. Stiles twisted the knob. Locked again. He squinted and blasted the door open.   
Stiles's eyes fell at the girl bound on the table and then moved to the disfigured face and red eyes. Stiles squinted at him. The man flew backward and slammed to the wall. Stiles run to the girl. She was unconscious. He checked for her pulse. She was alive. Stiles took a moment to breathe before he felt a hand wrap around his shoulder. Stiles only had a second to look back before he was being tossed back. He flew over another table where a mirror was placed. Stiles stood and stared at the glowing red eyes. Two beams erupted and connected with his eyes.   
Stiles felt his legs giving out. He supported his weight on the table and felt for the mirror. His hands grew heavy. With a shaky breath, he grabbed the mirror and raised it in front of his face glass looking outwards. The red beams were reflected back towards Javna. He screamed and covered his eyes with his hands. Stiles took a moment to breathe. He didn’t have much time. He had a feeling the demon wouldn’t be stunned for long.   
He walked to the other side of the table closer to the demon and raised his right hand. “Evil eyes, look unto thee. May they soon extinguished be. Bend thy will to the Power of One. Eye of earth, evil and accursed”, he yelled loudly albeit with a shaking hand. The effect was immediate. An eye appeared on his hand and on each of his fingers a different small animal -an iguana, a turtle, a frog, and a snake. A bright beam of purple light erupted from his palm and connected with Javna’s chest. Stiles watched as the demon was burned turning into a skeleton and then to ash before the ash was swept away.  
Stiles took a moment to breathe before he walked to the girl. He picked her up and took her outside. Sirens could be heard in the distance. Stiles panicked. “Fuck, fuck, fuck”. He looked around. How would he explain this to the police? Why was the police coming here anyway?   
Stiles placed the girl next to the door of the warehouse, got in his jeep, and drove a street away before turning right and parking in the shadows. He got out and walked back. He picked through the corner. The officers had found the girl and were trying to shake her awake. Stiles gasped as Derek got out of one of the cruisers. Stiles walked back to his car swiftly, starting it and rushing out of there.   
Derek squinted at the distance as a baby blue jeep was turning a couple of streets away at main.   
  



	5. Wedding disaster

Turns out the owner of the coffee shop also owned “Quake” and the latter was understaffed so Stiles found himself working there. There had been two whole weeks without anything else weird happening and Stiles shouldn’t know how to feel about it. Relieved or bored, he was leaning to the latter. He kind of liked saving people and sending demons back to hell or wherever they went after he had vanquished them. Stiles’s hands were itching for something new.  
At least Derek was becoming something constant in his life. They had gone on another two dates and had planned one more in two days. They hadn’t had sex both agreeing to take it slow and Stiles was eager to take their relationship further. Maybe he could convince the uniform-wearing hunk to ravish him at the end of their day. A guy could dream, all right?  
Stiles was currently serving a very nice disgustingly in love couple. He gathered from the diamond sparkling on the woman’s hand they were a step away from tying the knot. “Congratulations!” Stiles said as he served them their steaks. The happy couple smiled and thanked him. They then turned back at staring at each other sparks flying between them.  
Stiles returned to the bar asking for a glass of water. “Isn’t that adorably disgusting?” the barwoman said. She was a curvy, blonde with snark equal to his. He liked her.  
“We both know you are just jealous, Erica”, he said and drunk the water. They both stared at the couple and sighed. “Ok. Enough staring we have work to do”, he said and went into the kitchen.  
The very next day Stiles found out that the manager of the restaurant had quit without prior notice. “And remember the couple from yesterday? “Quake” is meant to supply the food and drinks for their wedding”.  
“And now?” Stiles asked. The thought of that couple being unable to have their perfect wedding irked him.  
“Stiles!” the owner a large dark mocha skin man named Vernon burst through the entrance door. Erica fixed her curls and leaned over the bar with a smile. Vernon glance for a moment at her his posture relaxing before he turned towards Stiles.  
“Yes, Mr. Boyd?”  
A clipboard was pushed into his arms. “Congratulations, you are the new “Quake” manager”, he said. His eyes flashed to Erica for a second before returning to Stiles's frozen face.  
“I haven’t even been working here for a month”, Stiles said trying to push the clipboard back to Vernon’s hands. He crossed them over his large chest. If Stiles wasn’t already charmed by Derek’s stupid everything he would have surely been more impressed by the bulging biceps of his boss. Erica wasn’t faring well. She was blushing and Stiles was a hundred and fucking million percent sure that his co-worker was half-way in love with their boss. “Why not Erica? She has been working here for far longer and knows personally more customers”, Stiles tried. Vernon's eyes flashed to Erica. Stiles read the panic in them.  
“No, you do it”, the boss insisted.  
“But”, Stiles tried.  
“I expected everything to go perfectly Stiles. Don’t disappoint me”, Vernon said and with one last glance at Erica, he was out of quake. Stiles turned to the grinning blonde.  
“I am so fucking screwed”, he whispered and looked down at the clipboard.  
Stiles had to cancel his date with Derek. Organizing the food and drinking supply for a wedding took hours and by the time he was done he was too tired to even walk the stairs that led to his house.  
Stiles is drumming his fingers against the steering wheel of the van he currently drives. He has been waiting for ten minutes for someone to come open the gate to the mansion. Stiles pressed the intercom again. “I have ice sculptures that are melting over a wedding cake that took four days to make. Do you want to tell the bride?” he yelled the moment someone said “hello”.  
The gate opened a minute later and Stiles could see two guards jogging towards him. “Please, I have to get in into the compound. This is a matter of utmost importance. I must get in”, someone says urgently. Stiles barely held in a scream and his hands on the wheel. There is a priest clutching desperately at his rolled-down window.  
“Father Trask. We've been expecting you”, one of the security guards said and grabbed the priest by the arm and tore him from Stiles’s window.  
“Hey, easy on the padre, buddy”, Stiles said sticking his head out of the window and glaring at the guard.  
“Go right ahead, sir”, the other guard said.  
“She is the bearer of the demon child. Beware Hecate”, the priest yelled. Stiles cocked his head.  
“Okay. Weird”, he said and rolled in the mansion.  
Any other person would be impressed by the interior’s opulence but Stiles had honestly seen better. He had spent a semester in Paris during his studies and he had gone to parties in truly opulent homes. Stiles walks in as the woman he remembers from the bar runs out crying. Isn’t that the bride? He thinks.  
“Mr. Stilinski?” Stiles turned toward the voice. A woman around her fifties is staring at him from the top of the grand stairwell. “Please follow me”.  
Stiles fidgeted with his shirt all the way to the top. The woman glanced at him before turning around and walking towards the end of a long hallway. She gently pried the enormous door there open. Stiles followed. A beautiful blonde woman was trying on a wedding dress. A seamstress was fixing something at the flowing bottom of the garment. Stiles was officially confused. “Mrs. Michaels”, he says reading her name from the clipboard.  
“It’s Mrs. D’Mon”, the blonde said coldly.  
Stiles furrowed and stared at the clipboard. “But I have a Mrs. Alison Michaels as the bride to be”.  
“There has been a change of plans”, the blonde said. “Will there be a problem?”  
“Of course not, Mrs. D’Mon”.  
Stiles had practically run out of the room after that. Something in that woman irked him. He couldn’t quite place that feeling of unease, of dread he got when he looked at her. Stiles shook his head and went down to the kitchen. He had a lot of things to arrange.  
An hour later found Stiles running to his van. He had forgotten some things concerning the updated menu in it. As he was returning back to the house he heard a loud crack and then a squelching sound coming from behind him. Stiles would swear his scream was anything but womanly. He approached the victim. It was the priest the guards had thrown out of the house. “Help!” he yelled. “Help!” Clutched in the priest’s hand was a knife. Stiles frowned. Why would a priest need to carry a knife?  
Against his better judgment, he took the knife from the priest and observed it. It looked old. Something told him by the style and the stone in the handle that it was probably dated around the 14th century. He had seen depictions of knives like this during his classes of Medieval.  
The moment Stiles had closed his fist around the knife a vision overtook him. He gasped closing his eyes. _He stared as the priest entered a room. A blonde woman with his back to him was there. “Father Trask”, she said as she turned around. Stiles frowned. That was Jade D’Mon the new bride._  
 _“I banish thee back to the underworld, Hecate”, Father Trask said and took out the knife pointing it to her._  
 _“Not today, Trask”, she says and looks at his back. Stiles gasped as one of the bridesmaid’s morphs into a demon with spikes and sharp teeth. A clawed hand wraps around the priest’s throat and twists it._  
Stiles gasped as he came back to himself. Sirens could be heard in the background. Stiles hid the knife in the back of his pants and covered in with his shirt.  
“Stiles?” Derek asked as he got out of his cruiser. “What are you doing here?”  
“I am in charge of the catering for the wedding”, Stiles said.  
“Did you see what happened?” Derek asked. The officers tried and failed to clear the crowd that had gathered.  
“No. I just heard a loud cracking sound like a window breaking and then I heard a loud thud”, Stiles said. Derek nodded and scribbled the statement on a paper.  
Stiles turned his head and stared at the bride and her bridesmaid standing expressionless in the back.  
When he got home Stiles opened his laptop. He searched into an academic database that concern artifacts. He was so thankful that he had ties to Columbia University. He would send an extra basket to Dr. Ferreira after this. He typed knife, jewel, 14th century, and priest into the search bar. Only one result popped up. “Jeweled Poignard of the Order of the Stephanine Cross”, Stiles read. He clicked on it and kept reading. “The Jeweled Poignard pictured below was extensively used by members of the Order of the Stephanine Cross. Commissioned by Pope Clement II in the year 1547, the secret order is reputed to still be ancient. The stated goal of the order was to prevent the demon Hecate from marrying a mortal and giving birth to a demon child. Hecate, Queen of the Underworld, can only be banished from Earth by the use of the Jeweled Poignard. In 1794, a Stephanine poignard featured primarily in the trial of Father Thomas of Kait. Father Thomas was put on trial for the murder of a young bride. Witnesses testified that the Father killed her at her wedding with his poignard. The case was dismissed because the body of the young bride could not be found”. Stiles leaned back on the sofa. “Hecate, the Queen of the Underworld. Great”.  
He rushed to his bedroom and searched the Book of Shadows. The book confirmed what the article had said. Hecate could only be banished back to the Underworld by stabbing her in the heart with that particular knife. Stiles read further. The book said that Hecate came once every two hundred years to marry an unsuspecting mortal in a sanctified wedding and getting impregnated. The children born would have the appearance of a mortal but the soul of a demon. “Great. There are demon children with human faces roaming the world”, Stiles said. He read further. In order to marry the mortal Hecate put him under a spell that could only be broken with a true love's kiss. “So that’s why the groom had a change of heart”, Stiles said. He had to find the bride. He closed the book and went downstairs. He had the phone number of the original bride somewhere.  
Stiles found himself across the original bride the very next morning. “Do you love him?” he asked.  
Alison nodded. “Yes, but he doesn’t seem to love me anymore. Jade has enamored him”, she said wiping a tear away.  
Stiles took a deep breath. “What if I told you Elliot isn't himself because this woman has put him under a spell, so to speak. Allison, Elliot loves you, not Jade”.  
“If that were true, I would be the one walking down the aisle today”, she said looking away.  
“You still can be. All you have to do is crash your wedding”, Stiles said earning back her attention.  
“What?”  
“Look, it's not that crazy. The man that you love is marrying somebody else. Don't you want to do everything within your power to stop him?” Stiles said grabbing her trembling hands.  
“This isn't a fairy tale. Real-life doesn't work that away”, she whispered. A stray tear rolled down her left cheek.  
“But what if you can get him back? Do you really wanna spend the rest of your life just wondering? In your heart of hearts, you must still love him”, Stiles insisted raising her cheek to look at him.  
“I do. God, I really do”, she said. Stiles soothed her trembling hands.  
“Then let me help you”, he said firmly.  
“But you don't even know me. Why would you want to help me?” Alison asked.  
“Let’s just say it is my job to help people like you”, Stiles said. He took a deep breath. “Look, if you can, if you'll trust me, we can bring you and Elliot together”.  
Stiles never in his wildest dreams could imagine that he would be crashing a wedding but as Alison screamed at Eliot that she loved him and an angry Jade or Hecate, whatever her name was, brought a storm, Stiles found himself placing this experience in his top five life experiences chart. Awesome. “Stay here!” Stiles ordered Alison as he followed Hecate, Eliot, and the bridesmaid to the house.  
The bridesmaids were placed at the top of the stairs. As Stiles ascended they morphed into their demon form. “Sorry ladies”, he said. And with a squint of his eyes had them flying off and crashing to the ground. He didn’t know how much time this move would secure him but he rushed towards the groom’s bedroom.   
He squinted at the door and it flew open. Hecate had transformed and was atop a frozen Eliot. Thankfully she hadn’t managed to undress him yet. Hecate growled at him. “Who are you?”  
“I am a witch, bitch!” he said and squinted her across the room. She crashed in the closet. “Eliot! Eliot, can you hear me?” Stiles shook him he stayed unmoving.  
“He is mine now”, Hecate said. Stiles turned around. She stood brushing off splinters. At that moment her three bridesmaids burst into the room and rushed to her side. “You can’t win little witch. Kill him!” she ordered the bridesmaids.  
The bridesmaids lunged at him. Stiles was faster throwing his hands in the air. The bridesmaids froze but Hecate didn’t. Stiles felt his heart start a fast staccato. Hecate didn’t freeze. Hecate stared at her minions and then at him. Her demon eyes went wide. “You froze them”, a moment passed. Her eyes grew even larger and she took a step back. “The Charmed One”, she whispered. Stiles's heart eased. She was scared. Stiles smiled.  
“I am and guess what demon bitch?” He said taking out the knife he had hidden again on the back of his pants. “This is the end”, he squinted his eyes and threw the knife willing it to hit her in the chest.  
Hecate screamed before she vanished absorbed by the knife. A moment later her minions were absorbed too. Stiles took a deep breath and collected the knife. He exited the room as Alison burst in Eliot’s name a cry on her lips. He left the two lovers alone.  
Stiles exited the house only to bump into Derek. “Derek!” he squealed.  
“Stiles? I thought event planners weren’t usually invited to the actual wedding”, he said his brows furrowing. Stiles glanced behind Derek. More officers were there talking to the frightened guests.  
“Yeah, that’s true but there was a problem with the food and I had to come”, Stiles said.  
Derek hummed taking out his scratchpad. “Can you tell me what happened here?”  
Stiles laughed. “I don’t know, man. It was weird. The wedding was going fine before the groom’s ex stormed in. And then that storm came out of nowhere”, Stiles said rubbing the back of his neck.  
“Is that all?” Derek asked in suspicion. Stiles made himself look surprised.  
“Yes, Derek. That’s all”, Stiles said. Derek stared at him for a moment before he was called by another officer. Stiles waved him off.  
Stiles turned around and looked back at the entrance of the mansion. Alison and Eliot stood there in each other’s arms. Alison mouthed “thank you” to him. Stiles smiled and nodded at the couple. He then walked towards where he parked his jeep. Derek’s eyes never left him for a second.


End file.
